


Monkeywrench

by wyntirrose



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Interspecies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-12
Updated: 2007-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:11:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntirrose/pseuds/wyntirrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a routine trip to Portland turns disasterous, Ratchet is injured and Sparkplug learns just how sensitive a mech's insides can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monkeywrench

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This was requested by Oasis over in the Padded Cell. Unfortunately it didn't really want to come to me until now. Hopefully this does the request justice, and isn't too cracktastic.
> 
> And a big, big thank you to Lstarrunner for reading through this and providing some much needed opinions on it.

It was turning into a bad day for Ratchet and Sparkplug; worse than bad, actually. A simple outing to an auto parts store in Portland had quickly turned into a life or death race as Dirge, Thrust, and Ramjet had descended upon them from the clouds. Now the ambulance was driving wildly through the desert toward the Ark, his radio broken, and his chances of survival diminishing as quickly as his waning fuel supplies.

"What the hell are they doing?" Sparkplug growled as he looked back at their pursuers with the side mirror. "Don't they have better things to do?"

"Apparently not," Ratchet replied as he swerved right suddenly, dodging Thrust's attack by a hair's breadth and sending Sparkplug flying across his cab.

"Shit! That was close!" Sparkplug cried as he fought with his lap belt, trying to get it done up before Ratchet swerved again. "Can't you go any faster?"

"I'm gunning it as it is. This is as fast as we're gonna get!" Ratchet bit back. "We can't outrun him, but we might be able to – SLAG!" Ratchet slammed on the brakes to avoid the huge pothole that Dirge had just blasted into the road ahead of them.

"Fuck!" Sparkplug swore as he slammed into Ratchet's dash, his hands breaking his forward momentum with a loud and painful sounding slap.

"You okay?" Ratchet asked. He backed up at full speed, spun around, and shot off in the opposite direction.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just drive!" Sparkplug muttered as he massaged his palms.

"I can't keep this up! We need to find a place to hide and we need it now!" Ratchet said, dodging another shot, this one from Ramjet.

"You can't outrun us, Medic!" the jet sneered. "Just give it up!"

"Yeah, right!" Ratchet muttered. "Like that's gonna happen."

He drove as quickly as he could, dodging the aerial attacks, but he was quickly losing stamina and speed. Taking a chance, he slowed slightly so that he could scan the area for a hiding place. After a moment, he found a large, deep cave hidden in a nearby cliff face.

"Got it!" Ratchet said to Sparkplug. "I need you to take off your seatbelt and get ready to jump when I tell you."

"What?" Sparkplug cried. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Just do what you're told and we might get out of this!" Ratchet ordered. His tone allowed for no argument.

Sparkplug was unsure but he trusted Ratchet; he didn't have a lot of choice. If the medic was planning on transforming he had to get out of the cab or he'd be crushed. He undid his belt and moved up close to Ratchet's passenger side door. Taking a deep breath, he waited for his cue to jump. Then he saw where Ratchet was heading. The ambulance was making a headlong dash directly toward the edge of a cliff.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sparkplug shrieked, clinging desperately to the door handle.

"Just trust me," Ratchet bit out.

Second by second they drew closer to the cliff's edge and the three Decepticons drew closer to them. The timing had to be perfect.

Ratchet fell over the edge of the cliff, opened the door and shook Sparkplug loose. In a heartbeat he had transformed into his two components, grabbing the cliff face with one hand and the human with the other, as the Decepticons shot past him, firing on his medical platform at it tumbled to the ground below. With dexterity and speed he didn't know he possessed, he swung himself into the cave and out of sight, listening for the sounds of the Decepticons.

Sparkplug stayed as silent as he could, as he lay cupped in Ratchet's hand. He heard the Decepticons fly past, crowing over their victory. Thankfully it seemed that none of them had bothered to check if the remains were actually the medic. They had taken the whole thing at face value. After what seemed like forever, they heard the Decepticons leave the scene.

Sparkplug let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and heard Ratchet mutter something that sounded like a prayer of thanks.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Ratchet said.

He took a step toward the cave opening when there was a sudden groan and a crack. Before either fully realized what was happening, the floor beneath them suddenly gave under Ratchet's weight, and both were sent tumbling into darkness.

x-x-x

Sparkplug woke with a groan. He coughed slightly, his sides aching with the movement, but he didn't feel the sharp pain of broken ribs. He was lying on his side, his legs drawn up, and his torso turned down in a sort of modified foetal position. His arms were pinned under him, and as with the rest of his body, they ached, but nothing felt broken. He could see nothing in the nearly pitch darkness, so while his eyes adjusted he freed his hands to feel about.

As soon as he moved he gasped at the tingling in his fingers. He had been unconscious for long enough that the blood-flow had been cut from his arms, and he was now paying the price with numb, tingling fingers.

After a long while, the tingling stopped and he was able to properly take stock of his surroundings. What he had originally thought was pitch darkness was, in fact, lit slightly. It wasn't enough to see clearly, but the vaguely ethereal glow that came from somewhere above was just enough to allow his eyes to adjust. He was in a small, enclosed space, and when he reached out a tentative hand to touch the walls of his prison, he came in contact with warm, soft, scarred metal. He looked closer and realized that the metal was bright red. He was surrounded by Ratchet's hands. Somehow during their fall, the medic had had the presence of mind to cup the small human between his hands and body, providing a protective metal cage.

"Hey Ratch'!" he called. "I'm awake, let me go."

There was no response from the medic. Sparkplug stopped moving and listened. Ratchet's engine rumbled softly and his intakes were working, but there was something laboured in both sounds. In the background, below the other noises, Sparkplug heard the slow and steady dripping of liquid hitting rock and his breath caught. He hadn't been aware of it before, but now the strange and unmistakable scent of energon hit him; a bizarre combination of oil, lubricant, and ozone.

"Ratchet?" he asked tentatively. "Hey, Ratchet, wake up. I think you're hurt. You need to let me out so we can get you fixed."

Again, there was no reply.

"I'm really sorry about this Ratch'," he sighed. Turning his body around as best he could, he pulled his leg up and kicked out viciously.

The steel sole of his boot made contact and a dull clang filled the silence. When there was no reaction, Sparkplug kicked out again. This time, Ratchet groaned.

"Come on! Wake up Ratchet! Let me go!" Sparkplug yelled.

"What happened?" Ratchet groaned.

"We fell and you've done something to yourself," Sparkplug said. "Now let me go so I can take a look."

"Right …," Ratchet said slowly. He opened his hands and lifted the human up to optic level while turning on his headlights.

Sparkplug looked at Ratchet in concern. He was banged, dented, and battered. His windshield was smashed and it looked like one of his wheels had been broken off in the fall. It was obvious that if he could still transform, Ratchet wasn't going to be driving anywhere any time soon. But even more disconcerting was the look of his optics. The normally blazing blue was dull and pale, almost white. It was a colour that Sparkplug had learned was associated with pain or shock.

His attention was suddenly drawn away from the medic as he noticed the cave they were in. They were good ninety feet down from the opening and the cave was wider than Ratchet's weak headlights could illuminate. The space was beautiful, lit with slightly phosphorescent moss and painted with shining golden flecks. At first it looked like gold, but Sparkplug knew better. He had worked as a miner for long enough to recognize iron pyrite when he saw it, but the knowledge didn't make it any less beautiful. Ratchet's slight groan of pain drew his attention away from the cave and back to the medic.

"How are you feeling buddy?" Sparkplug asked.

"I … I'm not sure," Ratchet replied weakly. "My internal diagnostics are telling me that everything's fine, but nothing feels quite right," Ratchet shuttered his optics and leaned back with a sigh. When he looked back at Sparkplug his optics were a slightly better shade but still filled with ill-concealed concern. "I think some of my systems were knocked offline. I'll need to do a visual inspection to be sure."

He place Sparkplug on the ground gently and then shifted his weight as if to stand. After a moment, his optics widened in shock.

"Sparkplug, I can't stand up. There's something wrong with my legs. They won't respond," he said. He sounded surprisingly calm, considering that he had just announced that he was paralyzed.

"All right, let me have a look," Sparkplug replied. "Maybe I can see what's wrong; then I can be your eyes, and you tell me what to do."

Ratchet nodded, then sighed.

"Most of my supplies were in my platform and I don't think I can get into my pocket without moving," he said quietly.

Sparkplug pondered this development for a moment then began to check his own pockets.

"What are you looking for?" Ratchet asked, watching Sparkplug's strange dance.

"I think I … Ah ha!" Sparkplug crowed. "Here we go. A multi-tool and electrical tape. It's not perfect, but beggars can't be choosers."

"I suppose not," Ratchet said, shaking his head at the primitive device.

"You're leaking from somewhere," Sparkplug said as he began to examine Ratchet's immobile legs.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know," Ratchet grumped.

"Ah, now there's the Hatchet I know!" Sparkplug shot back, pleased to hear Ratchet in a more normal mood.

"Just find the problem and fix it," Ratchet growled, even as the companionable smile tugged at his lips. "And try not to do any more damage while you're down there."

"I think I can fix a car. I mean, you're not that much more advanced than my old Cavalier."

"Hey, watch it you glorified monkey," Ratchet shot back, but his tone was still light.

"Hey, at least I didn't call you a Yugo," Sparkplug laughed. "Oh wait," he said, suddenly becoming serious. "Here's a problem already. There's a cut in these wires. The electrical tape should hold until we get back to the Ark."

Sparkplug held the wires together and gently wrapped them. As he worked he became aware of a shudder passing through the medic, and a soft groan. He looked up. Ratchet's optics were closed and his lips were compressed together.

"You okay?" he asked.

Ratchet nodded. "I'm fine. That was just a little ticklish that's all."

Sparkplug continued with his work, patching up wires and small leaks as gently as he could, but no matter how careful he was, he continued to hear Ratchet whimper and felt him shivering slightly.

"Ratch', look, it's obvious I'm hurting you. Maybe we should take a break. It doesn't look like you're going to leak out any time soon, and-"

"You're not hurting me," Ratchet replied with a sigh. "This has to be done. Just finish it and we can get out of here."

"Oh come on! You've been moaning and whimpering ever since I started. It's obvious that you in-." Suddenly Sparkplug broke off and his eyes widened. "Oh my god, you're not in pain are you? You're … oh …"

"No, there's no 'oh'," Ratchet shot back. "I'm fine. I'm just-"

"Bullshit!" Sparkplug interrupted. "I've been around you guys for long enough to know what that colour means." Sparkplug stabbed a finger toward Ratchet's optics. "They only turn that shade of indigo when -"

"I know when it happens," Ratchet grumbled, looking embarrassed. "Look, I …" Ratchet broke off and looked at the wall. "I can't turn off my pain receptors. I've been trying and I can't get them to respond. And since I still can't move my legs, it means that there's still more damage, which I can't reach on my own. So can we just please get this done? … Please?"

There was such an uncharacteristic pleading tone in Ratchet's voice that Sparkplug sat back and regarded the medic with sympathy.

"I'm sorry," he said solemnly. "I shouldn't have made light of this. … So what should I do? I mean, I'm perfectly willing to work on you like this." Sparkplug broke off with a snicker, then added, "Even if you are getting -"

"Don't!" Ratchet warned, levelling a massive red finger at the small human. "Do not even think about finishing that sentence!"

"Okay, all right! Calm down. I was only kidding," Sparkplug said, raising his hands in defence. The placating gesture did nothing to hide the chuckle in his voice, however.

"I thought you humans were embarrassed by shows of sexuality?" Ratchet asked, trying to ignore the sensations that Sparkplug was causing as he set back to work.

"Not all humans are that sensitive about it," Sparkplug said with a shrug. "In fact, from what I've experienced, most aren't."

"Oh. Well, uhm," Ratchet stumbled as he brought the conversation back on track. "I think that the problem's probably electrical, so all you need to do is find the bad connection and fix it. Hopefully the electrical tape will do the trick. If not, then-"

"Then we'll deal with that problem if we get to it," Sparkplug said reassuringly.

He continued to examine Ratchet's legs, patching up what he could as gently as possible, painfully aware of the uncomfortable silence that descended over them. Sparkplug looked up at the medic and saw the dark indigo optics and compressed lips. But there was something more, beyond the obvious embarrassment, he actually looked more relaxed than he had in a long time. A thought, a somewhat evil thought, began to form in the back of Sparkplug's mind. He shook his head, though, dismissing the idea outright, and quickly brought himself back to the matter at hand, fixing Ratchet and getting them out of there.

"So … How do you deal with this kind of situation when you're operating?" Sparkplug asked, hoping that a conversation would keep Ratchet's mind of the sensations he was inadvertently causing.

"Usually I can turn off the systems of my patients with the tools in the med bay. When it can't be done, then I just try to work quickly," Ratchet replied tightly.

He seemed about to say more, but just as he opened his mouth Sparkplug's hand slipped as he was taping up a bundle of wires, and all that came out was a deep throated moan.

"You did that on purpose!" Ratchet accused, glaring at Sparkplug, his optics a deep midnight blue.

"Believe it or not, no, I did not do that on purpose. Trust me, if I had, you'd know," Sparkplug replied. Then an evil grin to vie with a certain red Lamborghini crossed his face as that half-formed thought came back into his mind with full force.

"You know, Ratchet," he said slyly, "I think that part of your problem is that you're wound too tight. You really need to relax a little."

"I most certainly do not need to relax! What I need is for you to fix my legs so we can get out of here!"

"All right, all right. Don't get your diodes in a twist," Sparkplug grumbled, but that grin was still plastered to his face.

"And even if I did need to relax," Ratchet grumbled as he leaned back against the wall, "I wouldn't need your help to do it."

"I'm sure you don't," Sparkplug snickered. "You have to admit that you've been awfully … stressed lately."

"I am not stressed!" Ratchet argued.

"You know, back in the war the medics would get wound up like this," Sparkplug said conversationally. "Well you watch MASH. The show's actually not half off. Especially the later seasons."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ratchet asked.

"Nothing. I just think that you really need a trip to Seoul," Sparkplug replied, ignoring Ratchet's mortified look.

He continued to work on Ratchet's legs, but now, he wasn't being as careful as he had been. Slowly, he began to run his fingers over and between the exposed wiring as he did the needed patches. Ratchet shuddered and moaned, hands balling into fists as he fought desperately to control himself against this assault on his systems.

Sparkplug looked up at Ratchet, recognizing the look on his face all too well, and chuckled softly to himself.

"I heard that," Ratchet bit out with a groan. "You are doing this on purpose!"

"And if I am?" Sparkplug replied, running a finger down the inside of Ratchet's armour.

The medic gasped and threw his head back with a cry. An electrical jolt passed across Ratchet's body and was sent tingling into Sparkplug. He fought to suppress a shudder, but Ratchet noticed.

"Not so much fun when you're on the receiving end, is it?" Ratchet asked with a gasp as his ventilators kicked in to cool his overheating systems.

"I don't know about that," Sparkplug replied as he continued to stroke Ratchet's wiring. "I think that was quite interesting."

Another jolt passed from the medic to the human as Ratchet bit back a cry at the sensation.

"Yeah, well, stop it," Ratchet said. "Find your interesting sensations elsewhere."

"Do you want this done or not?" Sparkplug asked as he continued to examine wires and cabling for the damage that was preventing Ratchet from moving his legs.

"That's blackmail," Ratchet growled.

Sparkplug just shrugged with a grin that was far better suited to a man half his age. He took a wire between his thumb and forefinger and began to roll it gently. Ratchet gasped and arched his back.

"What are you … HMMMM … what are you doing?" he whispered.

"You, my friend, need to relax," Sparkplug replied as he ran his fingers along the inside of Ratchet's armour, nails scraping at the bare metal.

Ratchet gasped at the sensation, his optics half closed. As if unconsciously, his left hand moved up to his neck and stroked the main fuel line with a gentle touch. Sparkplug grinned at the look and the movement and continued to run his hands over Ratchet's wires and armour. He drummed his fingers along a seam in Ratchet's knee, causing the medic to throw his head back with a cry. Blue lighting danced across his armour and into Sparkplug.

It didn't cause any pain. Far from it. Sparkplug swallowed back a gasp as his senses fired, as he felt a wonderful tightness in his belly and groin.

"Where did you … AH … where did you learn to … UHHHMMMM … to do that?" Ratchet asked as Sparkplug continued to tap and probe his legs.

"The Twins aren't exactly subtle," Sparkplug replied as another shock was transferred from mech to man. He moaned softly as his body reacted to the sensations that he was causing.

"Good … point," Ratchet replied, distracted as his hands moved, as if of their own accord, across his own neck and chest.

Sparkplug continued to pet, stroke, rub, and manipulate Ratchet's wiring and armour, causing the mech to gasp and whimper in response. His engine rumbled and his coolant systems kicked in, trying desperately to counteract the effect of the human's touch. The sound of Ratchet's response was having an effect on Sparkplug just as much as his touch was having an effect on the mech. The tightness in his groin was becoming insistent and he found himself unconsciously thrusting against Ratchet's leg as he continued to massage the medic's systems.

Suddenly, Sparkplug ran his finger against something very sensitive. He didn't know what it was, but the reaction was totally unmistakable. Ratchet threw his head back with a lusty cry as a wave of blue electricity formed around the middle of his chest, above his spark chamber. The electricity moved over his body heading straight into Sparkplug's hands, still buried deep within Ratchet's leg. Sparkplug cried out as his body reacted to the incredible energy that passed through him, lighting every neuron with an incredible fire. There was no pain, just pleasure unlike any he had ever felt before. And then, as quickly as it started, it was over. Sparkplug collapsed over Ratchet's leg as the last of the energy dissipated. Above him, he heard the medic breathing heavily as his systems seemed to be fighting off recharge.

"Well that was interesting," Sparkplug said.

"Yeah … interesting …," Ratchet replied. He shifted slightly, careful not to jostle Sparkplug.

"Hey, you just moved your leg," Sparkplug pointed out.

"Oh, yeah." Ratchet looked down at his now functional legs, an embarrassed look on his face. "Look, uhm, can we not, uhm, mention this?" he asked.

"Mention what?" Sparkplug asked innocently. "I just helped you out with some much needed stress relief?"

Ratchet looked down at Sparkplug incredulously, then shook his head ruefully.

"I swear, between you and the Twins, I don't know which of you is going to be the death of me," he said with a gusty sigh. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"I think you need to recharge a bit," Sparkplug replied. "God knows I do."

"I think I still have enough energy to get us back to the Ark. As long as we go slow."

"And don't run into 'Cons again," Sparkplug quipped.

Ratchet shook his head but said nothing as he picked up Sparkplug gently and began to carefully climb the walls of the cave, making his way to the opening.

"And Sparkplug?" he said quietly as he reached the mouth of the cave. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sparkplug said with a small smile, patting Ratchet on the shoulder amicably.


End file.
